


Addiction

by Blackghost7



Category: NCIS
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ehmm...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackghost7/pseuds/Blackghost7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is addicted… does Gibbs hold the cure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addiction

Anthony DiNozzo Jr. has a personality that’s highly susceptible to addiction. It runs in the family, of course, so it’s not surprising, but his addictions are a bit different than what would be expected. Tony isn’t addicted to alcohol, like his parents, or to the little happy pills Mom used to take, which he only realized when he was older. No, Tony is addicted to different things. To his movies, for example, the rows and rows of DVDs that he just can’t seem to stop himself from buying, even if he has seen the movie ten times already and knows he will never watch it again. When he sees the DVD in the shop, he has to get it. Or to sheet music, because while he rarely plays anymore, he just can’t walk past the music store without going in and checking out the sheet music section, always coming away from there with new purchases which end up on the stacks of unplayed melodies on the corner of his piano. But far more than that he’s addicted to people, to finding out everything he can about them, snooping into their histories and their possessions, which is why his job is such a perfect fit for him. It’s why he clings to people sometimes, to Wendy, seeing himself with her for the rest of his life, to Jeanne, telling himself he was falling for her more and more every day, to Ziva, letting his need for her attention convince him that he needed her on another level too. His need gets too overwhelming for them at times, and it’s why they all shut him out and leave him, leave him behind while he’s still craving more. He knows all this about himself, but as is the nature of an addiction, can’t get himself to stop.  
   
So he hides it, and he hides it well. His colleagues and friends are never invited to his apartment, Tony not wanting them to see the extent of his collections of movies and music, lest they realize that he couldn’t possibly have watched or played them all in the time he has outside of work. McGee knows Tony regularly goes through his desk, but can’t quite figure out when or how unless Tony lets some piece of information he’s gathered from his snooping slip, and Tony knows that McGee would be horrified by the sheer amount of information Tony has dug up on his friend over the years without the tech-savvy agent even seeing a trace of Tony’s electronic searches anywhere in the systems. Bishop still hasn’t figured out that Tony knows about every single item she keeps in her desk and in her purse, that he has researched her extensively too and knows things about her and every single member of her extended family that she’s probably already forgotten. Abby rarely has a problem with sharing, but still Tony knows things about her and her family and friends that she is only now discovering. Ducky and Palmer and Vance would be surprised to know exactly how much Tony knows about them, has discovered without their knowledge, and that he continues to pry into their lives every now and then, seeking more details, more data, in an attempt to understand them better.  
   
Because that is what it is all about, understanding them, being able to predict things about them. Because if he can do that, it means he can figure out how to get their attention, and that’s his biggest addiction of all. He thrives on it, needs it, it’s more essential to him than air. Tony would never do anything with all he knows to hurt his friends, never use it against them, would only use it to protect them if it would help. And they don’t even know it.  
   
Gibbs knows.  
   
Not that his stoic boss would ever outright admit it, but Tony knows that Gibbs knows. While he’s had his suspicions about Gibbs knowing since pretty much his first day at NCIS, Tony really gets it confirmed when the truth about Gibbs’ first wife and daughter comes out after he’s blown up. Everyone is shocked and horrified at the news and at Gibbs hiding it from them, and Tony acts as surprised as the rest of them, but Gibbs gives him a single look and even with the Swiss cheese that is Gibbs’ memory at that point, Tony sees that Gibbs knows he already knew. Tony doesn’t know exactly how Gibbs knows, but that doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that if Gibbs knows, that means he’s paying attention, and that settles Tony. It's why he derails slightly when Gibbs is gone, and why he stays after Gibbs returns. It's why he stays at the man’s side for all those years. And because when it comes to Gibbs, there’s always more to know.  
   
Gibbs seldom hints at any of it, but makes use of it when needed. It’s why he turns to Tony when something is unsettling the team, trusts Tony to point him in the right direction to set things straight again. Tony’s knowledge of his friends and co-workers helps him suss out the problem and how to fix it, and when Gibbs gives him his attention, Tony will give Gibbs what he needs without betraying his friends. It’s why he lets Tony interrogate suspects so often, because Tony’s need for people and attention have made him an expert in reading them, and he can get them to give away clues for Gibbs to read and follow up on without them even realizing it. It’s why together, they make such a formidable team. It’s why whenever he notices Tony starting to get desperate, Gibbs manipulates him into coming to the basement, and there gives away crumbs of information about himself for Tony to soak up and file away, always just a few tiny things, because even if due to all this Tony knows Gibbs better than anyone ever has, Tony must never find out everything.  
   
That’s why Tony is so surprised one day when he catches Gibbs staring at him intently across the bullpen, and even though he can’t discover the reason for that look, again he realizes that it doesn’t really matter. Gibbs’ attention is on him, perhaps even more intensely than ever before, and he feels the tension that has been starting to build in him over the past few weeks dissipate and flow out of him. He smiles at Gibbs almost in thanks, and is again surprised when Gibbs seems startled to realize that Tony caught his look which he hardly could have missed. He raises an eyebrow at Gibbs in question, and sees Gibbs huff a little, shake his head, and turn back to his monitors.  
   
Gibbs has been watching Tony closely the last few days, noticing that Tony is reaching that point again where Gibbs will have to intervene, and when the telltale signs of Tony’s unrest begin to clearly show – although no one but Gibbs ever seems to notice them – Gibbs stares at Tony from across the bullpen, trying to decide whether to take him to the basement tonight, or if it can wait until tomorrow when it’s Friday and they’ll have more time. When Tony looks up and catches his eyes, Gibbs sees the tension start to ease immediately, and wonders at that. He hasn’t said anything, hasn’t given Tony any information, he’s just looking, and still Tony’s already calming down. The smile Tony gives him is adorable, and when Tony raises a questioning eyebrow to him, Gibbs huffs at himself at that thought, shakes his head and turns away. But he can’t keep himself from glancing up at Tony again and again, hoping to see that same smile that makes his heart go faster, and Tony is obligingly giving it to him every time he catches Gibbs’ gaze. By the end of the day, Tony’s much more settled, and Gibbs decides the basement can wait until tomorrow.  
   
That evening Tony’s at home, but while physically he’s thumbing through his DVDs, his mind is wandering absently, seeing the intense blue gaze of Gibbs focused on him in his mind’s eye. He’s wondering about the meaning of it, about the fact that even the recollection of that look now still has a calming effect on him. He wonders what it is about Gibbs that causes this in him. Gibbs is intense in everything he does, he’s focused and dedicated, and fierce. He has this force about him, a strength of personality that Tony finds highly attractive. He thinks that maybe this is why a crumb of Gibbs’ attention is stronger than hours’ worth of anyone else’s. He thinks about how long he’s known Gibbs and that it has always been this way. He thinks that if only he could have Gibbs’ attention on him every day the way he had today, he would never need anyone else’s again.  
   
He then thinks that the gaze he got from Gibbs today was almost as effective at settling him as the head slaps he receives from the man. Even though others have head slapped him occasionally in imitation of Gibbs, those have always been but pale reflections in comparison to when Gibbs does it, and those never calmed him, only served to irritate him despite the attention they conveyed. He idly wonders what the effect would be if Gibbs stares at him that intently while giving him a slap. Or maybe cups his cheeks with those strong hands, like Gibbs did that one time. Or maybe kisses him. He thinks that would really be intense, the combination of look and touch, and smiles at that thought. He imagines that piercing blue gaze staring down at him from above, while Gibbs’ hands touch him, roam over his chest, while Gibbs pushes apart his thighs and presses him down into a mattress, anchors him with his dick deep inside of Tony.  
   
He suddenly straightens up, blinking his eyes unseeingly while he lets those thoughts process. Is he really thinking about Gibbs that way? Does he want to have sex with Gibbs? Since when? He actively recalls his latest sexual encounters, lovely women all, but their eyes are closed and their heads are turned away, and even while he is inside of them, he knows their minds are wandering, thinking of some fantasy that helps them get even more excited, and he feels their attention is not fully on him even at that most intimate of moments. Gibbs isn’t like that, Tony knows that in his heart. Gibbs is focused on what he does, and is dedicated to whatever task is at hand, and is not distracted while he does it. Tony imagines Gibbs is the same way in bed, and he feels himself get hard, lets himself lick his lips at the thought. If he can get Gibbs’ attention on him like that, he’ll never want for anything else.  
   
The following day, Tony studies Gibbs a lot, and he knows the man notices it, but he can’t help himself. He watches Gibbs move around, watches Gibbs focus on whoever is speaking to him, watches Gibbs stare at his monitors, watches Gibbs look at the plasma. Gibbs is always focused on whatever he is doing, is not distracted by anything, never lets his mind drift away from the task at hand. Tony knows he was right the previous evening, and he wants to experience what it feels like, needs to experience it.  
   
Gibbs is a little unsettled by Tony’s behavior, but he knows he doesn’t need to do anything. He knows Tony will come to his basement that night.  
   
Tony sits on the stairs and watches Gibbs putter around the basement. Tony has a beer in his hands and sips at it now and then, and thinks about what he’s doing here and what he wants, and how to get it. He feels himself get aroused at the thought of Gibbs touching him the way he imagined, and decides to just go for it. He puts down his beer and walks over to Gibbs, but before he can do anything more, Gibbs’ voice stops him. The two of them are standing close, staring at each other while Gibbs speaks.  
   
“So you’ve come to a conclusion then?”  
   
Tony remains silent, wondering how Gibbs always knows what he’s thinking, always knows what’s going on in his mind. Then he simply nods.  
   
“What conclusion is that?”  
   
Gibbs seems to hold his breath while waiting for Tony to answer, and despite what he’s doing, what he’s contemplating doing, Tony still feels calm while he’s fixed in that blue gaze and answers.  
   
“I need you.”  
   
A slight flicker of disappointment crosses Gibbs’ face, and he lets out his breath in what can only be termed a sigh.  
   
“Sit back down, Tony.”  
   
He’s confused and disappointed himself now, but he cannot disobey Gibbs’ order. He moves back to the stairs slowly and sits back down, stares up at Gibbs with questioning eyes. Gibbs grabs a sawhorse and drags it over, seating himself on it and facing Tony, then he speaks again, his tone soft and almost as if he’s trying to teach Tony something by getting him to reason his own way to the answer with only a little prompting from Gibbs. They don’t say a lot, and what they do say is interspersed with long silences while they look at each other and consider their words.  
   
“What is it you think you need?”  
   
“You.”  
   
“More specifically.”  
   
“Your eyes on me.”  
   
“Less specifically.”  
   
“Your attention.”

"You always had it."

"Not like yesterday."

"What was different?"

"The way you looked at me."

"What way was that?"

"Like you could really see me. The real me."

"I've always seen the real you."

"I know."

"And I've always kept you around."

"I know."

"So what does that tell you?"

Tony stares at him for a long time, a little helplessly, like he really doesn't know. Gibbs ventures another prompt.

"People are always paying attention to you. Does that feel the same?"

"No."

"What's different?"

"That's not good attention. Not like you, or Abbs, or Tim… It doesn't make me feel better."

"Not like from the people you're close to."

"No."

"Not like from your friends."

"No."

"So you only want this attention from your friends."

"And from you."

"I'm not your friend?"

"You're different. Your attention is different."

"In what way?"

"More effective. Better. Makes me feel better."

Gibbs feels his heart start beating faster. Maybe he's getting through to Tony. Maybe there's something there after all. He gives them both time to let the words sink in before he speaks again, his voice even softer now, and Tony strains to hear him, too mesmerized by the tone to register completely how much Gibbs is saying. Gibbs is almost verbose compared to his usual demeanor.

"You have hundreds of movies, and most of them are from the golden age of romance. You have tons of sheet music, most of it romantic too."

Tony doesn't question how Gibbs knows this. Gibbs always knows. Gibbs knows him.

"You do everything you can to get attention from your friends. You know everything about them, but never use it against them, try to protect them whenever and however you can, never expecting anything in return."

Tony shrugs.

"They're my friends. Of course I take care of them."

"I said, never expecting anything in return."

"Why would they? Isn't that what friends are for?"

"Are they not your friends too?"

"Of course they are."

"Shouldn't they look after you too then?"

"I can take care of myself. Always have."

Gibbs' heart breaks to hear him say it, Tony dismissing himself completely, as if he's not worth it. He can't speak anymore, hurting too much for this beautiful man who was never told he was loved, never shown what love was, never truly loved. Gibbs puts down his drink and does the only thing he can do, the only thing he can think of. He stands and drags Tony to his feet as well, pulls Tony against him, wraps his arms around Tony, holds Tony close. Breathes deeply and just continues to hold Tony.

Tony's mind is spinning. Gibbs is behaving very strange, but he's getting Gibbs' full attention and touch as well, and it feels good. He lets himself soak it up, lets himself sink into it. Maybe this evening will be enough to sustain him for a while. But as Gibbs' words are repeating in his mind, Tony gets uneasy. Gibbs was going somewhere with this, and Tony hasn't reached the right conclusion yet. Gibbs will be so disappointed in him, and he doesn't want that, he never wants that to happen. He always does everything he can to keep that from happening. He shivers at the thought, and Gibbs pulls him a little closer. 

It takes a long time, and Gibbs is almost starting to think he is wrong and it isn't going to happen. He can practically feel the wheels spinning in Tony's mind, and he worries. But then he both hears and feels Tony suck in a deep breath, the shivering increases, and it feels like there's a deep sadness and desperation to it. Tony clutches at Gibbs, holding him closer still, trying to bury himself in Gibbs' strength even though he's got plenty of his own, more than Tony knows.

Gibbs just holds him while Tony tries to figure it all out. It must be overwhelming. Tony doesn't cry, doesn't get angry. Tony is Tony after all, and that's why Gibbs loves him. Tony adopts, adapts, adjusts. Tony's strong that way, stronger than Gibbs, and on some level they both know it. Gibbs chances it and speaks again.

"What do you need from me?"

"Your love."

"You always had it, Tony. Always."

Then Tony does break down. It's wet and messy and perfect. Gibbs takes Tony to his bed that night for the first time. There will be no sex tonight, but they will get there. Somehow, they always get there. And while Gibbs holds his soon to be lover in his arms, he contemplates the words he's going to have to have with his team about their treatment of Tony. A few softly spoken words put an end to that contemplation, and Gibbs loves Tony all the more for them.

"Don't you dare, Jethro. I'm perfectly happy now."


End file.
